


The Necessity of Colour

by howterrifying



Category: Molliarty - Fandom, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, molliarty - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:33:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24339682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howterrifying/pseuds/howterrifying
Summary: When the paths of Molly Hooper and Jim Moriarty crossed, neither of them expected that their entire worlds would collide.[Rated T for language]
Relationships: Molly Hooper & Jim Moriarty, Molly Hooper/Jim Moriarty
Comments: 32
Kudos: 108





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The title had begun from a single idea I had, an idea that involved how one character viewed the other. It was meant to be a simple, nuanced one-shot, but the pair kept growing as their conversations unfolded and so it evolved into this mini-series. I actually had a very hard time trying to complete this but when I finally saw where it was heading, I was so glad I'd persevered with it. I did not expect it to end the way it had, but once the final scene had made its home in my mind, I could not deviate from it. I hope this story isn't too chaotic and that you can feel the complex and yet surprisingly clear feelings between the two. x

**I.**

It was a foolproof plan. Then again, when had Jim Moriarty ever had a plan that was _not_ foolproof? _The world is a circus of fools_ , was how he often defined the environment he lived in. In this case, he had decided it was best he undertook this particular operation himself.   
  
He had planned it down to the most random of details so as not to be caught off guard; from the title of Molly’s favourite musical to the brand of cat food she would buy for her cat, Toby. Jim learnt how the different ways she did her hair could offer him some insight into her mood. The shocking amount of colour she seemed to enjoy formed a stark contrast to his own very stark palette, but he had learnt to appreciate it. Jim had left no stone unturned.  
  
Molly’s affection for Sherlock Holmes and their close working relationship had been the reason behind Jim choosing her for his plan. This affection she had for the detective, however, was both a blessing and a curse. It would offer Jim the insidious access to Sherlock he needed, but he knew it would take time. Jim was afraid that her infatuation itself would become an obstacle.  
  
To Jim’s surprise, Molly had taken to him far sooner than he had expected. Before he knew it, they were going on small dates; late night coffees after her shifts at the morgue, weekends at the secondhand bookshop and even a rare trip to the cinema. Jim had been pleasantly surprised to discover they shared the same popcorn preference – no popcorn at all.  
  
It had all been very warm and cordial, lots of laughter, shy smiles and free and easy conversation. Jim knew she was going to be easy to talk with but was genuinely surprised to find himself wanting to hear what she had to say. Needless to say, she was also remarkably clever and it earned Jim’s genuine admiration.  
  
They were at the tail end of another of these dates. It was a weekday night and it marked their first dinner date. It had only happened because Molly was famished after her shift and had not been in the mood for St. Bart’s refectory offerings.  
  
“That was a nice treat, thank you,” said Jim to Molly. The night was getting chilly and he used it as an excuse to stand a little closer to her as they took a slow stroll.  
“Well, it wasn’t the fanciest of restaurants but it was the best I could think of at this hour,” Molly replied with a laugh. “Besides, I should thank you for joining me. It’s not often I have company at dinner after a shift.”  
“I happen to like your company,” Jim said, throwing a most dashing smile in her direction.  
“Yes, I know,” Molly responded with a knowing half-smile.  
  
The pair stopped in their tracks, grinning at each other before bursting into chuckles. They had been dancing around the edges of their fascination with each other and it seemed they were about to enter slightly newer territory.  
  
“It goes without saying,” said Molly, looping her arm through his, “that I very much enjoy your company too.”  
  
Jim smiled at her words, except he was not sure where the smile stemmed from. As they walked on, he considered that perhaps her words indicated his plan was succeeding and thus brought him joy.  
 _  
No, that’s not it_ , he thought to himself. He knew it was going to succeed, so there was nothing exceptionally successful to smile about. Something was off about his own reaction and it puzzled him. He was interrupted by Molly literally snapping her fingers in front of his distracted face once they had reached the taxi stand where they would normally part after a late night out.  
  
“Fancy a midnight coffee?” asked Molly. She reached out to gently brush a small dried leaf that had fallen on his shoulder.  
“You know I’d never say no to coffee with you,” he said, reaching for the same hand that brushed the leaf off and kissed it.  
  
Molly’s eyes widened in surprise, but a smile grew on her lips.  
  
“That’s a first,” Molly said with a sly smile.  
“Well, we have to start somewhere,” replied Jim.  
“I suppose,” she said with a laugh, “Coffee at my place then?”  
  
It was Jim’s turn to be surprised, but he too, smiled in return.  
  
“Now _that’s_ a first,” he said with a small chuckle.  
  
Molly chuckled along with him as the pair hopped into a taxi and made their way back to her flat.  
  
++  
  
“Nice place,” Jim said, carefully wiping his feet before stepping into her flat.  
“You’ve _very_ well-mannered,” Molly said in turn, gesturing to her doormat, causing them both to chuckle. “Sherlock Holmes would just break in, much less wipe his feet.”  
“My, it’s been a long time since I’ve heard you mention his name,” Jim remarked, wondering why his heart gave a nervous thump in his chest.  
“It was to give you a point of reference, Jim,” Molly said with a wry smile, “A reference of the type of ‘manners’ I’ve had to tolerate.”  
“Well, you _did_ like the man,” Jim said, wondering why he could not bring himself to smile at the irony.  
“He has his charms,” Molly remarked nonchalantly, “But they wear off very quickly.”  
  
Molly took Jim’s coat and hung it together with hers. She gestured to the sofa for him to take a seat while she went to make the coffee.  
  
“Make yourself at home,” she said, “Don’t do anything Sherlock Holmes _would_ do.”  
“I wouldn’t dare. Wouldn’t want my charm to wear off,” Jim said with a cheeky glint in his eyes.  
“No, you’re too handsome for that,” said Molly, her eyes mirroring the light in his eyes.  
  
As Molly disappeared into her kitchen to make their coffee, Jim took a moment to take in his surroundings. It amused him to find a half-knitted scarf attached to a brightly-coloured ball of yarn, both items placed carefully atop the latest issue of an international neurology journal. Eventually, Jim found himself getting up from the sofa and wandering curiously around her living room, studying bits and bobs of what made her who she was. She was impossibly fascinating and it puzzled him as to why Sherlock Holmes had not fallen for her right away, especially once she had made known her affections.  
  
At that thought, Jim froze.  
  
 _Oh, Jim_ , _you can’t have_ , he chided himself. No, this could not and, more crucially, _should not_ be happening. Is that why her words from earlier had made him smile? _I can beat this_ , he thought. It was just a feeling. Feelings were transient, disposable. He would get rid of it in no time, whatever it was that he was feeling for Molly Hooper.  
  
“Found anything interesting?” came Molly’s voice but in a tone he did not comprehend.  
  
He turned to face her, only to realise he was now staring down a barrel of a gun. A gun she was holding.  
  
“Molly?” he said, raising both hands instinctively.  
“Take a seat, please,” she replied, using the gun to gesture towards the sofa.  
  
With his hands still in the air, Jim made his way to the sofa and sat down carefully. He had not expected a night with Molly Hooper to take the turn it had and made a mental note to engage his snipers _at all times_ in future _._ Molly sat on the small coffee table right in front of him, the gun still aimed towards his heart.  
  
“James Moriarty,” she said, slowly and evenly.  
  
Jim knew to be quiet in situations like these and tried desperately to read her face, except it was now absolutely unreadable. Whatever warmth or delight he always saw in her eyes seemed to have disappeared completely. Even the brown in them seemed to have faded into an icy, steely gaze he simply did not recognise.  
  
“It really is a pity,” said Molly with a blank smile, ‘I was getting rather fond of you.”  
“Then put the gun down,” Jim asked, “You know I’d never hurt you.”  
“Of course, you would,” Molly said with a laugh, “I know who you are, James Moriarty.”  
“I couldn’t hurt you, Molly. Look at me, I’m just—”  
“Jim from IT, I know…” Molly interjected. “The charade’s over, Jim.”  
  
Jim looked hard at Molly and saw that she was dead serious. The charade was over, both his and hers. The gun remained effortlessly in Molly’s hand, poised and ready to put a bullet through his chest at any second.  
  
“My boss has questions,” Molly began, “And you are to answer them.”  
“Your boss?”  
“She wants to know what you want with Sherlock Holmes.”  
“Why would she want to know that?”  
“She’s the one asking the questions, not you.”  
“All right, all right,” Jim knew not to push at times like these. “He’s been meddling, and I wanted to keep an eye on him.”  
  
Molly appeared to pause, as though listening to something, and it seemed she was awaiting her next instruction.. It was that split second that presented Jim the opportunity to push her hand away, producing a small knife which he pressed to the side of her neck. They were now interlocked, with Molly’s gun quickly repositioned, pressing against his stomach whilst he maintained the pressure of the blade against her skin.  
  
“It seems you’re two-timing me, Molly,” Jim remarked with a wry smile.  
“Well, we’d only just begun dating,” replied Molly, smirking in return.  
“God, I think I really _do_ like you, Molly Hooper,” Jim continued, clicking his tongue.  
“I’m still undecided,” Molly said, chuckling darkly.  
“Still pining for Sherlock Holmes as well?” Jim retorted, wondering why he still could not properly joke about this.  
“My boss needed eyes on him too,” she said casually, “It was the best ruse.”  
  
 _A ruse_ . Unknowingly, Jim found himself lightening his pressure of the knife against Molly’s neck. He fought the odd rush of relief that entered his mind. This was no time for _a feeling_ , much less newer, complicated ones. As though to remind him to focus, Molly pushed the end of her gun further into him, reminding him she was still in control. The blade on her neck hardly fazed her. Bullets were faster, after all.  
  
“You’re very good at your job then,” Jim continued, equally unfazed at the gun against him.  
“So are you,” said Molly, “But I _am_ a little better at it.”  
  
The pair of them broke into a quick chuckle, just as they had at the taxi stand about an hour ago, but their gazes never left one another.  
  
“At least I can claim credit for being my _own_ boss,” Jim said with teasing in his eyes.  
“Now who would give a fuck about that?” Molly answered with a cool, almost gentle smile.  
“ _Tsk_ . Language, Molly…” Jim tutted, amused.  
“Has _my_ charm worn off then?” Molly asked, raising an eyebrow.  
“Not in the least,” he replied coolly.  
“Good.”  
  
With her gun still held firmly in place, Molly leaned forward and kissed Jim softly on the lips. There was a light clang as the blade he held fell from his fingers onto the coffee table and then bounced onto the floor. When she pulled away from him, Jim stared back at her, wide-eyed and for the first time in his entire criminal career, appeared to be at a loss.  
  
“Told you I was better,” she whispered, before kissing him once more.  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**II.**

When Jim finally stirred, the last memory he had was of Molly’s lips on his and it confounded him slightly. Surely he had not blacked out from a kiss? He blinked his eyes rapidly as his vision cleared and the room swam into view. Except he was not in a room. He had been lying across a bench at their usual taxi stand. Jim cricked his neck as he slowly rose from the bench. As he did so, he found himself wincing and the entire right side of his face was beginning to throb from excruciating pain.  
  
“Oh, that’s right,” he murmured to himself, hissing as he rubbed his bruised temple.  
  
He had been wrong about his last memory. The correct last memory would have been Molly raising the gun in her hand and bringing it down to strike him across the face.  
  
“I really should hire her…” he continued, now rubbing his cheekbone.  
  
Suddenly, his mobile phone buzzed with an incoming message. Jim reached into his pocket for it and swiped to open the message.  
  
_I’ve decided you’re no longer a problem.  
At least not a big one.  
So you can go.  
But be careful what you do with Sherlock Holmes.  
I will be watching.  
  
E. _   
  
“Who on earth calls themselves by a single letter anymore?” he scoffed, closing the message. Jim managed to stand up and dialed for one of his cars to come get him. In a matter of minutes, he was being sped off to one of his offices where he would get cleaned up and put on a fresh suit. Jim needed to work out who else wanted a piece of Sherlock Holmes but more importantly, who it was that had the good fortune of hiring Molly Hooper.  
  
++  
  
“Coffee’s here,” Molly chirped, “Black and two sugars.”  
“Just leave it there,” came Sherlock’s sharp reply.  
“Okay,” she said, smiling sweetly as she placed it at the edge of the lab bench the detective was working at.  
“So, any luck on those chemical traces then?” she asked, walking towards his hunched figure as he peered deep into a microscope.  
“I’ve narrowed it down to five possible sources.”  
“That’s good then, isn’t it? Let me know if there’s anything I—”  
  
There was a knock on the door followed by the soft creak of it being opened gingerly.  
  
“Sorry, am I disturbing?” came the shy voice of Jim, holding a box of hard-drives in his hands.  
  
Sherlock looked up and vaguely recalled seeing this face, a face connected with something to do with computers. The memory had neither been significant nor threatening, so Sherlock merely looked back down and resumed his work at the microscope.  
  
“I’m just here to collect the faulty drives,” he said, pointing sheepishly to the box in his hands.  
  
There was still no response from Sherlock. Jim took a gamble and stole a glance at Molly. When she returned his gaze, all the sweetness from before melted away. Those same blank, icy eyes were back and it brought back the memory of their faces being inches apart from each other, her gun against his body and his knife against her neck. Jim’s heart lurched from the memory and it made him flinch ever so slightly. Molly noticed and when she deduced what had caused it, the tiniest light returned to dance in her pupils.  
  
“The drives are there,” Molly said, pointing to a shelf across the room. The sweetness reserved for her ruse with the detective returned. “Do you need a hand? There _are_ quite a few…”  
“No, no, I’m all right, thanks,” Jim said, trying not to smile in amusement from the honey in her voice.  
“Okay,” Molly said with a nod.  
  
Molly turned on her heels to exit the laboratory but could not resist one more look back at Jim. It had been some time since she had seen him. His bruises had healed nicely, leaving his handsomeness perfectly intact. In spite of her boss’ warning, it seemed his plan to hunt Sherlock also remained intact. Molly had to admit that this tenacity of his really was admirable. If her boss knew how much it thrilled Molly to see Jim again, she would probably have had her pay – or her head – cut. Nevertheless, she allowed that rush into her veins one more time before quickly vanishing from the lab.  
  
“She’s sweet, isn’t she?” Jim remarked to Sherlock. He headed to the shelf and began rummaging for the drives.  
“Who is?” Sherlock muttered, adjusting his microscope.  
“She was just in here a minute ago?” Jim pressed, hiding his amusement.  
“She’s not a sugar cube, so I wouldn’t know,” came Sherlock’s blunt response.  
“Ha, that’s funny. You’ve got a good sense of humour…” Jim said.  
  
That did the trick and the detective stopped to look up at Jim. He made the effort to look at Jim properly this time.  
  
“I’m sorry, who are you again?” asked Sherlock.  
“Ah, sorry. Jim…from IT?”  
“It’s obvious you’ve taken an interest in the pathologist. If so, why are you talking to me?”  
“Well, she seems to work with you. A lot.”  
“And what of it?”  
“I just thought maybe the two of you were, you know, a thing…” Jim said with a shrug.  
“I don’t have time for… _a thing_.”  
“She seems to like you though.”  
“Maybe someone’s paying her to,” Sherlock retorted, deciding to return to his chemical analysis.  
“You know, I take it back,” Jim said, popping the last drive into his box.  
“Take what back?” asked Sherlock.  
“She isn’t sweet,” said Jim, as he made his way out, “With a person like you? Someone’s _definitely_ paying her.”  
  
With those words, Jim gave a quick nod and a wave to the detective, who had looked up sharply again, before walking out of the lab. As he strolled down the corridor back to his office, Jim chuckled softly to himself. He had meant to insult Sherlock with his parting words but it had ended up serving to comfort the criminal mastermind himself. Whoever this E was, Jim was almost grateful to her. Whatever her reason was for spying on Sherlock Holmes, it had led Molly to the detective, which inadvertently led Jim to her.  
  
“I really should thank her someday,” Jim murmured to himself, drumming his fingers against the box of faulty drives.  
  
++  
  
Molly was sat in a cab with a few packed bags as she made her way to a hotel. Being the dutiful employee that she was, Molly had reported her sighting of Jim back at St. Bart’s. For Molly’s safety and for minimal disruption to their operations, her boss had insisted Molly be away from her flat for at least a month. Now that Jim knew where she lived, her flat was now basically one giant booby trap.  
  
The hotel was expensive and exclusive. Its low footfall of human traffic meant easier surveillance at the hotel, ensuring Molly’s safety. Her boss, though terrifying, knew to value an asset and would never put Molly in harm’s way. A bellboy took her bags and Molly was ushered to her suite by another member of hotel staff.  
  
“Well, this is nice,” Molly said to herself as she explored the space. Her phone buzzed and she knew it was her boss checking in with more instructions.  
  
_A different car will come every day to pick you up.  
They will drop you at various locations around St. Bart’s.  
I will handle Jim if he disrupts in any way.  
You are to remain focused on my brother.  
More information will be sent shortly.  
  
E.  
  
_ Molly smirked at the message and swiped it shut. She walked over to one of several ornate armchairs and sank into it. It was nice to know she could focus on the original operation again, but she did miss the temporary portfolio that had been keeping close tabs on Jim Moriarty.  
  
“He had such _manners_ ,” Molly sighed, leaning her head back, “And by god was he handsome.”  
  
Her moment of indulgence was interrupted by the sound of her hotel phone ringing. Reaching for it, she picked up the receiver and answered.  
  
“Hello?”  
“Ms Hooper, this is the Concierge. A package has arrived for you. Would you like us to send it up?”  
  
Her boss worked fast. Tonight was going to be a night of going through dossiers again, it seemed.  
  
“Yes, please,” Molly replied, a little crestfallen. She was hoping to at least have a night without work in this beautiful suite, but her boss did say she was going to send information.  
  
Moments later, the doorbell to her suite rang and Molly reluctantly got up to get the door. When she pulled open one side of the heavy, double-door entrance to her suite, what greeted her was not a brown envelope or a briefcase or anything she was expecting. Instead, she was presented with a bottle of red wine and those very hands that held them were the hands of one Jim Moriarty.  
  
“Did you miss me?” he whispered, smiling wryly at her.  
  
For a moment, Molly was stunned, but she soon regained her composure and could not help but smile back. It was then that Molly decided that if he had made it this far, her boss did not know he was here. At least that was what she was hoping.  
  
“You know what, Jim?” said Molly, retrieving the wine from him, “Yes.”  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To all of you who've always faithfully read my Molliarty works, thank you so much. You always make the time to read it and take the extra step of leaving such lovely, heartfelt comments. All your reviews truly brighten my day and sometimes when I'm having bad days, I go back and read them to feel better. So thank you for what you do that actually helps save little nobodies like me from some dark days. :') x

**III.**

The heavy door shut behind them as they walked towards the centre of the living room. Jim eyed the sofa warily and smirked at Molly.   
  
“Should I sit? Or are you going to point a gun at me again?” he asked with a chuckle.   
“That depends what you’ve come here for,” Molly replied, taking a seat herself.  
  
The criminal mastermind sat himself down and angled his body to look right at Molly. Molly turned to face him, resting an elbow on the back of the sofa.   
  
“Who do you work for?” he asked softly, while letting his eyes get momentarily distracted by her long brown ponytail that she had adjusted to the side.   
“Let’s just say she’s a kindred spirit,” Molly said, smiling. She reached to gently dust something off his shoulder, knowing full well there was nothing there.   
“I thought you and _I_ were kindred spirits,” Jim exclaimed, placing a hand dramatically over his heart. “No one else hates popcorn as vehemently as you and I do.”  
  
His gesture caused her to laugh. Jim certainly had a flair for the dramatic even when he was being Jim from IT. Now that there was no more need to pretend, she saw quite clearly the full theatrical range he was capable of.   
  
“She and I have one thing in common,” Molly answered, surprising herself that she was opening up to his questions.   
“And what’s that?” Jim asked softly, unknowingly shifting an inch closer.   
“We both know what it’s like being the cleverest one in the room,” began Molly, “And have no one realise it.”  
  
Her words surprised him. How did anyone not instinctively realise her brilliance? He had known it even before he had decided to pursue her in the name of hunting Sherlock down. Just watching her work was already a masterclass in excellence and it confounded him that she thought no one could see that.   
  
“Molly,” he began, gently reaching for her hand.   
“Hmm?” Molly replied, allowing him to.   
“Come work for me instead,” he whispered, bringing her hand up to his lips and kissing them.   
  
The gentleness of his lips against the skin of her hand seemed a sharp contrast to the weight of his question.   
  
“I’m surprised you’re hesitating,” Jim continued with a small laugh, “We would be great together. You know that.”  
“It wouldn’t be a very professional arrangement,” Molly replied, at last.  
“How’d you mean?”   
“I’d be a little _too_ attracted to my boss,” said Molly with a chuckle. “Surely you can see how that would be a problem…”  
  
This was not a response he had been expecting. Whether or not she had been joking, it inadvertently made Jim realise that what he had asked of her was not what he really wanted.   
  
“Isn’t that how we started though?” Jim said with a sly smile. “Office romance.”  
“Maybe,” Molly replied, smiling in return, “But well, I have great respect for whom I work for and I intend to stay with her.”   
  
As Jim processed her decision, Molly slowly retrieved her hand from his and moved to pour them both some wine. It occurred to him, especially as he watched her, that there had been a slow current building underneath his skin, a sort of buzz. Perhaps it was the exquisiteness of her wrists or just the angle of her cheekbones or maybe the fact that they were simply in the same room together. Whatever it was, it made Jim realise what he _really_ wanted to ask her.   
  
“Okay,” he said, suddenly. There was a gleam in his eyes and it amused Molly.   
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked, hiding a smile by taking a sip of her wine.   
  
Jim brought the wine glass to his lips and took a sip as well, causing a moment of silence to fall between them.   
_  
_“ _Don’t_ work for me,” he said, fixing his eyes on her while hiding his own smile behind the glass.   
_  
_There was a light chuckle as Molly put her glass down and returned to rest her elbow on the back of the sofa.  
  
“And what’s that supposed to mean then?” she asked, her eyes bright and curious.   
  
Jim mirrored her actions again and returned his glass to the table. That gleam in his eyes continued to dance as he moved towards her, leaving inches between their faces. At that proximity, Molly could not resist as she reached for him, her fingertips gently resting on the very cheekbone she had bruised with the back of her gun.   
  
“It’s mean that I’ve understood something,” he said quietly and almost a little menacingly. “And that is, you _don’t_ have to work for me…for me to get what I want.”  
“And what is it that you want?” asked Molly, her fingers having slid down to the edge of his collar.   
“Isn’t it quite clear?” he teased, mirroring her yet again by running his index finger down the side of her neck before moving to trace her collarbone.   
  
Before either of them could answer, they already had. What little distance left between them had vanished as they pulled each other in, silencing each other in a way that had long been playing in their minds for as long as they could remember.   
  
“Will your boss break us up if she finds out?” Jim whispered, his mouth dying to be back on hers again.   
  
Molly laughed, amazed she still had breath in her lungs to do so. Getting up from the sofa, she reached for both of Jim’s hands and coaxed him to stand.   
  
“She did break us up once,” Molly smirked. “But look where we are now.”  
  
It was Jim’s turn to chuckle as he got up on his feet. The moment he was face to face with Molly he simply had to kiss her again and he did, almost crushing her as he did so. The need for her was inexplicable and Jim was perfectly all right with that.   
  
“Shall we continue?” asked Molly as they finally pulled apart.  
“Please,” Jim answered, as his eyes shone.   
“God, you’re _so_ well-mannered,” she whispered, sneaking a soft kiss along his jaw before taking his hand and leading them both to the bedroom.   
  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those who've followed and read this mini Molliarty series. This marks the last chapter of the series and I hope you've enjoyed it, just as I've enjoyed writing it:) x

It surprised Jim that there _were_ other ways to inject thrill into his veins. No murders had taken place and no buildings had been bombed but his blood was on fire. Even as they lay together, talking like they used to on their ‘charade’ dates, the ecstasy of their afternoon still pulsated through every cell in his body.  
  
“Would you knit me something?” Jim teased, shifting to kiss her gently on her bare shoulder.  
“You’d hate it,” Molly answered with a chuckle. She sat up, causing the sheets to slip away from her whilst her hair cascaded down in their place.  
“Why would I?” murmured Jim, utterly distracted by the vision before him.  
“I know you absolutely _hate_ colour,” Molly said, “And I _refuse_ to knit something so bland.”  
“But I wore those patterned shirts…”  
“A charade, Jim, remember?”  
“And you saw right through that?”  
“Well, I was informed beforehand. But yes, your discomfort was rather obvious,” Molly said, grinning.  
“You _are_ good,” Jim said, returning her grin with a kiss on the side of her neck.  
“No, Jim,” Molly chuckled, before pinning him back down, “I’m _better_.”  
  
They laughed at the odd memory of their first real confrontation. How they had been made temporary antagonists once they had their disguises ripped from them. That was just it though, was it not? That not only had their antagonism been forced upon them, it had only been temporary. There was no way any real animosity could have lasted, not with the type of chemistry that lay bubbling beneath their skins.  
  
As they continued to kiss, both minds raced along with their pulses. The deeper they sank into each other, the more they remembered the distance they were supposed to maintain.  
  
“What do we do now?” Jim asked, relishing the view of Molly above him.  
  
Molly merely smiled and returned to plant another kiss on his mouth. It was a different kiss this time. There was no hunger or playfulness behind it. Instead, it was slow, almost contemplative, as though she were trying to memorise every sensation of the moment.  
  
“I’ll admit, it’s a little unclear,” she whispered in return. She was tempted to kiss him again, but something in her told her they had to stop.  
  
As if reading her mind, Jim sat up and leaned against the headboard whilst Molly shifted but remained straddled on his lap, facing him.  
  
“Unclear is okay,” Jim said with a smirk, reaching for her hands.  
“Unclear is dangerous,” said Molly, staring at their intertwined fingers.  
“But that’s where we live, Molly, don’t you see?” he whispered, trying to catch her gaze.  
  
Molly looked up, feeling the pull from his gaze. She could not help but smile when she saw those eyes of his resting on her. There was something so dazzling about the darkness in them and it caused a rush in her veins.  
  
“Listen,” said Jim, taking a moment to quickly kiss the top of her knuckles. “I _thought_ I knew everything about you, and it’s becoming apparent I don’t quite know everything. And while you seem to know quite a lot about me, I _know_ you don’t know everything. Even your all-knowing boss…no one can be _that_ all knowing…”  
“Yes, she can…”  
“Okay, fine, maybe she can. But who cares, Molly?” he remarked, a strange excitement growing in his voice.  
  
Molly could not tell where he was going with this and could only stare back at him with a single, raised eyebrow.  
  
“We _live_ in the grey area, Molly, that’s where we _thrive_ ,” Jim said, smiling widely at her. “We never know what will happen, but that’s where the fun is…”  
  
He paused to pull her closer to him so he could kiss her properly again. Her hands automatically reached for his face as he drew her mouth to his.  
  
“We’ll just make it happen,” he said, running a thumb across her cheekbone, “It’s what we do.”  
“Sounds a bit chaotic to me,” Molly teased, feigning disbelief.  
“Then chaos is the colour. In all of this grey, chaos is the colour,” Jim argued, fixing his eyes on hers.  
“When did you get so poetic?” Molly said with a laugh.  
“I’ve always been poetic,” he retorted, grinning.  
  
It was nice to see the light come back into her eyes. When she had said that where they were headed was dangerous, it had been sobering for him too. There was the issue of her boss who seemed both powerful and unknown, two characteristics that would have normally frustrated the life out of this criminal mastermind. Yet, it had only disturbed him momentarily. The larger fear that struck his cold heart was the thought of never being able to delight in the presence of Molly Hooper again.  
  
Again, there was that inexplicable need for her. This time, not only did Jim decide he was all right with it, he was going to indulge it.  
  
“Life needs a bit of colour, no?” he remarked, letting his fingers outline the beautiful contour of her face.  
  
Molly shut her eyes and savoured the feel of those hands against her skin. Had her boss, in all her intelligence and near omniscience, not realise that this would happen? Or had that been her intention from the beginning? It amused Molly for a moment that perhaps in falling for Jim Moriarty she had outdone her boss and done the one thing no one had been expecting.   
  
How was Molly to resist? He was so clever, so wickedly funny, so divinely handsome and had the most impeccable manners she could barely contain it.  
  
“I suppose life _does_ need a bit of colour,” Molly said at last, as a smile grew. “Your wardrobe could do with some for sure.”  
“My wardrobe? Are you implying that we should start living together?” Jim asked, his eyes widening as his theatrics returned.  
  
The both of them collapsed into each other, laughing and sinking into each other’s embrace again.  
  
“Please, could we?” Jim whispered, softly kissing the side of her neck.  
  
Smiling against his skin, Molly returned the kiss against his temple and continued until she reached his beautiful mouth.  
  
“You really do have the most _perfect_ manners,” Molly remarked, succumbing as she pushed him back down to bed.  
  


* * *

  
**Epilogue  
**  
Molly did not remember the last time she had been here. After all, it was a bit of a journey to get there but she did not remember the room being so cold. The glass, concrete and absolute dead silence certainly added to the chill Molly felt in her bones.  
  
She sat as still as she could in her seat and faced the empty space before her, waiting. Soon, she heard soft footsteps and a figure emerged, shrouded in the only thing the figure ever wore; a plain white medical gown.  
  
“Well, Molly, love is a good look on you,” said the figure.  
“I have to agree,” she smirked in return.  
“It seems you’ve strayed completely from the brief,” continued the figure, sitting herself cross-legged in the centre of the empty space before Molly.  
  
Molly swallowed nervously. She had been dreading this meeting and now it was finally happening.  
  
“Why do you look so scared?” asked the figure with a small, playful smile.  
“Because you’re terrifying?” Molly replied.  
“Come now, Molly,” laughed the figure, “I respect you too much to punish you, you know that. I couldn’t hurt you even if it one hundred percent warranted it.”  
“I know,” Molly answered, “And that’s what’s even scarier.”  
  
The figure shook her head and stood up. She walked across the space so as to stand right in front of Molly.  
  
“Molly, do you know why I hired you in the first place? Why we became such good friends so fast?” asked the figure.  
“Because we’re both clever. Very clever.”  
“Precisely!” exclaimed the figure, clapping her hands together, “And your little… _deviation_ from the operation, has inspired me with a better idea.”  
“It has?”  
“This is why I trust you, Molly. Even when you go off-course, you make things better,” the figure continued, “It’s hard to believe, I know, but I can have poor judgement on occasion.”  
  
Molly laughed at her comment, causing the figure to grin in return. Molly knew she was clever but she was nothing like her boss. Still, she breathed a sigh of relief knowing their working relationship had not been damaged.  
  
“I want to meet him,” said the figure.  
“Oh?”  
“I think he’d be a great addition, don’t you think?” the figure remarked.  
“I have to agree,” Molly replied with a smirk.  
“Besides, based on what you’ve been telling me,” the figure said, a wily smile appearing. “It’s time we had someone who _really_ brightens up the room.”  
  


* * *

  
When Jim received the text, his blood had run cold for a moment, his mind going immediately to Molly’s safety and wondering if it had finally been compromised. He decided to obey whatever it was this _E_ wanted, especially if it meant keeping Molly safe.  
  
As he was ushered from one car to another and finally into a helicopter, he was surprised to see the very face he had been worrying over greet him when he finally stepped off the helicopter onto an undisclosed island.  
  
“It’s take-your-boyfriend-to-work day,” Molly teased, kissing him quickly on the cheek.  
“I..I don’t understand,” Jim remarked, genuinely puzzled.  
  
As they entered the massive building and made their way through what felt like a thousand different corridors, Jim found himself facing a heavy, metal door. Molly gave him another kiss on the cheek and smiled at him.  
  
“Molly, what’s going on?” he asked.  
  
Molly did not answer but merely opened the door and gestured for him to step in.  
  
Once he did, he heard the heavy clang of the door shutting behind him. The ensuing silence was deafening as he stared at the sparse room he was in. Soon, a figure shrouded in a crisp white medical gown appeared and walked towards Jim.  
  
“Mr James Moriarty,” the figure said, extending her hand.  
“You must be E,” Jim replied, reaching to shake her hand only to flinch slightly from how cold it felt.  
  
The figure paused, still holding onto his hand as she examined him from head to toe. When she was done, a slow smile appeared on her lips.  
  
“It’s a pleasure to meet you at last,” the figure continued, releasing his hand and gesturing for him to sit on the only chair in the room. She walked over to the center of the room and planted herself down, sitting cross-legged.  
  
“Now that we’ve finally met,” she began, “Please, call me Eurus.”  
  
  
**END**  
  
  



End file.
